


36 Degrees

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, No Slash, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-09
Updated: 2005-07-09
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Inner Justin mid season 1.





	36 Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

I want to do a series of unrelated fics inspired by Placebo songs. Wait, wait, hear me out, these aren't songfics. I promise. Just where my mind wandered while driving to work and listening obsessively to Placebo. 

**Lyrics link:** [Placebo-36 Degrees](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/placebo/36degrees.html)

* * *

‘Kept to yourself’ is what you did; it was hiding who you are until you were ready for it go from speculation to topic of the day.

‘Shy’ is what your classmates called you before they learned to hiss ‘faggot’ as you walked down the hallway.

Labeling it as ‘being picked on’ was what the faculty declared it so you wouldn’t sue. They downplayed it, but your reality was so much more than a rerun of the small kid getting bullied by the big shot jocks show and your wordlist has expanded to include torture and torment, persecution and discrimination, harassment and abuse. 

Your mother had always asked why you didn’t have more friends and you’d stuck by your story; you only needed one friend as long as it was a good one, you’d only wanted Daphne, not only was she fun, she was also the only one that had a brain capacity to match yours and, anyway, you were too artsy for the other students at St. James to identify with. 

The honest answer would have been that you’d always known you were a little different and even early on something in the other kids had recognized it as well, hell Daphne didn’t seem all that surprised and you’d been hounded about it before Brian had ever driven you to school. And everyone that had poked at you, the ones that had taken their jabs, made their stances known and had tried, slowly and harshly, to peel layers of Justin Taylor away, yeah, they were assholes; but it was the others that just laughed along, they were the people that had caused the deepest aches in you. Of course that was before your father’s true colors had shone out in shades that weren’t exactly that of a bright rainbow on a PFLAG button. That was the biggest hurt.

It’s easier here, with individuals other than Daphne that accept you so freely; but it’s also strange. Now you have these people that you sometimes feel are on loan; feel like you’re just playing parts for them: young… new… beautiful… smart… talented… precious… precocious… available…

You’ve got a script for everyone, divided up and theatre blocked with precision, but the award-winning role is always when you’re on stage for Brian. This is where you shine; where you let go of your reticent cloak and light up under blue neon and salon tanned hands. The more you’re a part of his daily life the more you catch yourself strutting around and acting as though you’ve already conquered him; then you wonder how it can feel so decadently good and yet vaguely empty at the same time. A bit like eating both Twinkies in the pack all by yourself. 

So, you keep it all inside and one day it’s gonna take its toll. It’ll eat you alive, swallow you, knock you down, dry you up, hollow you out; whatever the fuck the trite catch phrase of the moment is. It will and what’s worse is that you know it.

And some days it really hurts your face to smile so big.


End file.
